


Citrus and Cinnamon

by Perilous_Grey



Series: 5/20 Blaze It (RoyEd Month 2020) [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Cabin Fic, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, I Tried, I hope, M/M, Post-Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, There's A Tag For That
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:40:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24089023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perilous_Grey/pseuds/Perilous_Grey
Summary: “Youtry being repeatedly assaulted with a giant ass wrench at the slightest scratch on her beloved automail, bastard,” Ed groused, gazing out at the gentle flurries of falling snow. “At least the snow can’t scream at me.”No way was it going to remain this idyllic for their entire stay; his luck just didn’t run that way. Were clouds normally that angry purple-grey when it snowed? Briggs was all shades of bleak monotone in his memory but he hadn’t exactly been paying attention to the sky at the time.The ting of a spoon being dropped into the sink interrupted his musings.“I’m certain we can induce an avalanche to get the same effect if you feel so inclined,” Roy’s baritone drifted across the room, “Just asmallone.”
Relationships: Edward Elric/Roy Mustang
Series: 5/20 Blaze It (RoyEd Month 2020) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1737898
Comments: 1
Kudos: 48
Collections: RoyEd month





	Citrus and Cinnamon

**Author's Note:**

> Written for RoyEd Month Day Eight: Shiver + Vampire
> 
> I'd say I'm sorry (for multiple things, you'll understand later) but this piece just kept going and by this point tardiness has become an ingrained personality trait.
> 
> If you listen to Maroon 5's "Shiver" you'll get an inkling of what kind of headspace this crawled out of.
> 
> Title taken from Hayley William's "Cinnamon".

Ed had said it once and would gladly proclaim it again so the entire world was well aware of his immutable opinion, “I fuckin’ hate the cold.”

“You only say that because you intentionally avoided informing Ms. Rockbell we were going North and decided the risk of frostbite was preferable to enduring her hospitality.”

“ _You_ try being repeatedly assaulted with a giant ass wrench at the slightest scratch on her beloved automail, bastard,” Ed groused, gazing out at the gentle flurries of falling snow. “At least the snow can’t scream at me.”

No way was it going to remain this idyllic for their entire stay; his luck just didn’t run that way. Were clouds normally that angry purple-grey when it snowed? Briggs was all shades of bleak monotone in his memory but he hadn’t exactly been paying attention to the sky at the time.

The ting of a spoon being dropped into the sink interrupted his musings. 

“I’m certain we can induce an avalanche to get the same effect if you feel so inclined,” Roy’s baritone drifted across the room, “Just a _small_ one.”

Ed spun away from the frosted window to glare at the cabin’s sole other occupant, wool cape-blanket flaring dramatically. “Who’re you callin' small enough to be mistaken for an individual ice crystal?! And whose idea was it to take a weekend trip North mid-winter in the first place? Some tactician you are.” He pulled the thick material further around his shoulders trying not to curl in on himself like his body so desperately demanded. 

Roy frowned, grabbing two steaming mugs from the tiny kitchenette’s counter and making his way over to the miserable looking blond. “Ed, you’re shivering. Why not go sit by the fire?”

Ed snatched one of the proffered mugs and inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of peppermint, dark chocolate, and a hint of cinnamon before gulping a scalding mouthful.

Roy huffed. “I don’t know how you haven’t burned your tongue off entirely yet, it’s certainly not for lack of effort.”

Ed eyed him over the novelty mug’s rim. It was shaped in the head of a smiling penguin with a crimson scarf wrapped around the base of its non-existent neck, far too cheerful in its brutal exsanguination.

“We scientists call it biological adaptation,” Ed said imperiously, “I don’t expect a _politician_ to be overly familiar with such phenomena.” Beverage consumed, he drew the empty mug to his chest, soaking in the lingering warmth of the ceramic.

Roy’s eyes attempted to roll out of his head, out the door, and directly into the nearest snowdrift if Ed was correctly interpreting the level of exasperated sass he was exuding. Ed took great pride in rarely being wrong.

“Heaven forbid someone try and excel in more than one area of expertise,” Roy commented blandly, taking a sip from his own polar bear head mug; this one was swathed in a scarf of emerald green with an equally rictus grin of holiday cheer. “If you’re going to take more shots at my illustrious livelihood, please do it by the fire. Ms. Rockbell _will_ discover the resonant frequency to turn that pretty head of yours into mush if you return with an ice block for a leg, and I for one enjoy your head resting on those finely muscled shoulders.”

“ _Livelihood_ ,” Ed repeated.

“ _Fire_ ,” Roy replied. 

“Livelihood implies politics is how you secure the basic necessities of life, not because you’re an incurable megalomaniac with a fundamental need to control everything within your sphere of influence.” Which was fuckin’ huge these days thanks to a gradually improving international political sphere.

“Exactly.”

“In which case, you owe your _livelihood_ to the taxpayers. Huh, even at the top you’re a lazy bastard.”

Roy clamped his free hand around Ed’s shoulders, magnanimously letting the jab slide.

Ed blinked and quickly shifted his mug out of the way as he was pulled to Roy’s chest, cashmere sweater sinfully soft against his cheeks. “Wait, did you call me pretty?”

“So you _do_ listen to more than the sound of your own voice.”

“Shut up, that’s my line, and don’t change the subject. You mentioned my shoulders too?” Ed shimmied under Roy’s arm, internally thrilled at the soft snort he received. Rarely did Roy truly let himself relax from the chaos of shaping a country day in and day out, always on his guard for the next problem on the horizon, continually weaving his intricately tangled web of machinations. In their home the masks came off at the end of each day but his body never lost the subtle thread of tension that marked a plotting mind, endlessly sifting through possibilities.

Ed could relate.

Bullying Roy into vacation in the middle of nowhere seemed to be the perfect solution. 

He just hadn’t predicted Roy would insist on the middle of winter to _go_. 

Roy nosed at the crown of Ed’s hair. “Yes, I did indeed compliment your shoulders,” he gave an appreciative squeeze, “and your breathtaking beauty which houses an astounding intellect,” he nipped at Ed’s ear, teeth skimming down along his throat to rest over Ed’s racing pulse, “shall I continue?”

Thinking was suddenly a much more complex endeavor.

Roy’s left hand migrated from his shoulder to cup his jaw, encouraging Ed to tilt his head, while the right set down his forgotten drink on the window sill, immediately pulling them flush together. Ed threaded his fingers through inky strands, lightly scraping at Roy’s scalp.

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Ed said, inhaling deeply at the press of sharp incisors.

Roy hummed. “I don’t need to hear your heartbeat to know _that’s_ a lie.”

_Only to you_ , Ed didn’t say. 

He was no stranger to praise. Many had attempted to ingratiate themselves with him after the Promised Day, to his eternal dismay, and Al and Roy’s continued amusement, nevermind when he and Roy eventually went public to the whole of Amestris and the world at large after getting their acts together several years later.

Roy was a professional charmer in both word and mannerism, but with Ed it was underpinned by action; Roy could wax poetic all he liked and yet it was the casual arm around his waist while walking, the careful fingers combing through his hair while relaxing on the couch, the constant need to simply touch without ulterior motive that demonstrated Roy’s sincerity.

“You’re still shivering,” Roy murmured against Ed’s jugular.

“So, is your brilliant plan to seduce me over to the fireplace and keep me warm yourself?” Ed ignored the knowing smirk pressed to his throat. Just because it was Roy’s stupid fault didn't mean there was a reason to be so damn _smug_.

“Mm, that’s one way of conserving body heat,” Roy said, right hand migrating down Ed’s back to rest at the base of his spine, “one that can certainly be arranged.”

“Guess that ice at the heart of your soul keeps you insulated pretty well, huh?”

“A true reflection of my status as a dead man walking.”

“More like a dead man about to be fuckin'.”

A long pause.

“I’m not sorry,” Ed said.

Roy slowly pulled back to stare at him. “Did you just—”

“Okay, maybe a little.”

“Ed—”

“Wow, how hard did you spike this cocoa?” Ed asked, squinting into the empty cup still clutched in his hand like the wonders of the universe were hidden in the dregs of melted chocolate.

“Not at all? I—”

“Right, you said something ‘bout a fire,” Ed slipped out of Roy’s grasp and made a beeline for the couch, throwing himself onto the toasty cushions to suffocate in peace.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't realize until I finished writing this that they didn't even kiss and by then it was too late.
> 
> What was in Roy's mug? Who knows.


End file.
